


Step Into Her Parlour

by meironmaiden



Category: Street Fighter
Genre: Gen, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 12:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20706143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meironmaiden/pseuds/meironmaiden
Summary: An underdog fighter has entered the World Fighting Championship and has managed a surprising showing. But then he faces his next opponent: Juri Han, the Spider of S.I.N.





	Step Into Her Parlour

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I wrote in the last week and is my first submission to AO3. I saw other fics involving Juri and figured I'd join in on the fun. I tried to answer the question "if I had to fight Juri, how would it go?" and this is the result. For background, I've been fighting for 26 years if you count schoolyard brawls with bullies and been formally training in martial arts (Isshin-ryu karate with some boxing, wrestling, and BJJ mixed in) since 2003. I tried to write this with more of a focus on realism over stylized combat tropes as I feel like this gives a more visceral feel to the action. Comments and critiques are appreciated.

_Focus, just focus on your breathing_, I think as I kneel on the cool stones of an old temple, dressed in my sweat-stained karate gi with the Isshin-ryu patch on the left breast of my jacket and slightly faded black belt cinched around my waist, listening to the wind softly hushing through the trees outside. As I try to clear my mind, my thoughts drift over the events of the past couple weeks. Despite my perennial underdog status in the tournament, I had managed to defeat Adon, the overwhelmingly arrogant protégé of legendary Muay Thai master Sagat. Although I had been outclassed in terms of speed, power, and experience, even the toughest fighter will be stunned if they get dropped on their head courtesy of a suplex they never saw coming. Taking Adon’s back after the suplex and beating on his head until he passed out sealed my victory in the match.

That was a theme in my performance for the tournament: in terms of raw skill, I was adequate. Physically, I was only stronger than maybe two or three other fighters and my speed was rated in the middle of the pack. What got me through my bouts was pure strategy and tactical flexibility; getting inside Vega’s head to make him sloppy, picking at Dudley’s legs with kicks at long range while constantly changing my tempo and rhythm until I got an opening for an off-angle punch that clipped his jaw to stun him before swarming over him, turning my match with Adon into a gutter brawl rather than a pure martial arts contest. By outwitting my opponents and adapting to their weaknesses, I’d defied the odds again and again, gaining the support of many of the tournament’s spectators. No one really expected me to win, living legends like Sagat, Ken Masters, Fei Long, Guile, and Chun-Li were participating as well, but most people were interested in seeing just how far I could go. I’d heard bookies giving 3-to-1 odds for me to make it to the quarterfinals after my win against Adon.

I’d been riding high on my victory, confident that I would continue to make a good accounting of myself… and then my next opponent was announced.

Juri Han. Easily among the most vicious and sadistic fighters in the tournament. The unhinged Korean woman was a five-foot-four-inch package of chaos and destruction. It was as if she lived solely to torment, maim, and kill the strongest fighters she can find for nothing more than her own amusement. She also had an incredible amount of power backing up her psychosis, having taken out an entire amusement park to kill a handful of S.I.N. deserters as I’d later learned from Cammy during the emergency training I’d begun in an effort to give myself even the slimmest chance at survival. Cammy, Guile, Chun-Li, Ken Masters, Sakura, and Rose had all spent the past two weeks working with me from sunrise to sunset, pushing my body and endurance to their limits while trying not to push me too hard lest the training backfire and leave me even more vulnerable to Juri’s whims.

“Ooh, someone’s eager,” a throaty alto voice purrs from the temple entrance, making ice slide down my spine. “I would have thought you’d turn up late to irritate me or something.”

Stifling a shiver, I keep my eyes closed as I fight the fear rising inside me. “It’s bad manners to keep a lady waiting,” I answer pleasantly, pleased that I’ve managed to keep the tremors out of my voice.

“Such a gentleman,” she replies, a hint of amusement in her smoky voice. “That can’t be the only reason, though.”

_Don’t let her get to you,_ I think, remaining in my kneeling posture. “Well, there’s also the fact that I’m going to have to fight you sooner or later and I get the feeling that you’d be put out if I didn’t show up.”

She laughs, sounding genuinely amused. “That’s one way to put it. You know what they say about Hell and women.”

“And you’re the embodiment of that,” I agree, opening my eyes and standing to face her, tying my medium brown hair in a ponytail.

Despite standing three inches shorter than I and giving up about fifty pounds of body mass, this unhinged woman’s sheer presence is intimidating. Her glossy mahogany hair is done up to look like a pair of horns adorned with a pair of fuchsia rings on each “horn” with long, loose locks framing her face and shorter bangs stopping just above her piercing violet eyes. Her top gives the impression of a spider: eight straps wrap above and below her arms to secure a silk high-collared dudou to her chest, leaving her shoulders and midriff bare to display lithe rippling muscle. Tight purple sleeves adorn her arms, supplemented with black spiked bracelets at her wrists and fuchsia MMA gloves cover her hands. Her legs are clad in loose white trousers that give the impression of chaps as they are cut along the inseam to reveal powerful thighs clad in fuchsia tights with a purple highlight over her groin. Her feet are cased in purple shin guards while a long black martial arts belt trimmed with gold thread loops several times around her waist before dangling to her ankles. Her nails on both hands and feet are neatly trimmed and polished with a rich fuchsia hue.

“See something you like?” she purrs, a seductive smile on her lips.

Flinching slightly at being caught ogling her, I answer “Well, you’re a beautiful woman, Juri. Can’t fault a guy for appreciating the view, can you?”

“Maybe, but you didn’t look turned on,” she counters. “You looked more like a little mouse that spotted the tarantula.” Grinning wider she leans forward a bit. “Is the little underdog afraid of little ol’ me?” she asks in a mocking voice.

I open my mouth to deny it, but then I sigh and lower my stoic front. “I’m fucking terrified of you,” I admit softly, allowing my body language to show my fear of her; shrinking back slightly and hunching my shoulders defensively. “I’m not even here to win against you. I’m just going to try to survive.”

“Aww,” she says condescendingly. “The peoples’ hero is afraid to die.” Flashing her teeth in what could only very charitably be called a smile, she continues, “And here I was thinking I might get a bit of fun out of you. After watching you before, I was hoping you’d have some kind of plan to try to beat me. It would have been a lot more interesting that way.”

Shrugging, I answer, “The others had weaknesses I could reasonably exploit. Vega’s vanity and ego, Dudley’s emphasis on fighting like a gentleman, Adon’s arrogance, all were traits I could play on to manipulate the fight. With you…” my voice trails off and I sigh before continuing, “I don’t know any real tricks I can use to tilt things in my favor. Not enough to give me a serious chance to win.”

“What a shame,” she says, a look of disappointment flashing across her face. “But you _did_ show up and you aren’t trying to run. I can almost _taste_ your fear and you haven’t frozen or run away yet. What should I do with you?” Her voice trails off as she taps a finger against her lips as if in thought. “I know…” she begins, her voice turning sultrier as she sashays closer. “I’ll give you an easy death. It won’t hurt much. Just some pressure, a little pinch, and then you die.” Pausing for a moment, she continues, “If you manage to stay so brave, I’ll even give you a last request. Maybe kiss you as you fade away? I promise not to bite. Much.” As she finishes her sentence, she’s standing just outside of kicking range. Neither of us is a threat to the other as we’d have to make an obvious commitment to close the gap. “What do you say? This isn’t an offer I make every day.”

Closing my eyes and taking a breath, I center my thoughts. “That’s incredibly generous of you, Juri. And in many ways, it’s a tempting offer.” Opening my eyes to meet her predatory gaze, I continue, “But I’d rather at least try to fight you. Just letting you kill me seems so… weak and undignified.”

At this, her expression brightens in anticipation. “I could take my time with you. Torture you to until you beg me for death. You’d be willing to risk that?”

“I can’t _not_ fight you, Juri,” I answer honestly. “I’m going to lose, but I have to lose on my feet with my head held as high as I can manage. It’s just the way I am.”

“Typical male pride,” she scoffs, looking somewhat amused.

“I will make that last request now, if you don’t mind,” I interject.

“Name it.”

“I’d prefer to have an open coffin funeral. My family would appreciate that.”

Laughing again in what sounds like genuine amusement, she answers, “I’ll try, but if you’re fighting me, accidents happen. But I’ll promise you that I won’t mutilate your corpse.”

“Fair enough,” I answer, stepping to the center of the temple floor and assuming my fighting stance: torso upright, body turned to my right by about thirty degrees to better protect myself. My feet are under my shoulders and pointed along the same thirty-degree angle, my rear foot’s toes in line with the back of my front foot’s heel. I keep my hands loose, my left hand out front open and relaxed as my rear hand is closed in a loose fist in front of my solar plexus.

Juri grins and assumes her fighting stance, turning so her left side is facing me. Her right hand is cocked next to her head with her fingers straightened while her left arm is out in front of her with her left hand opening and closing slowly as if anticipating grabbing ahold of me. Lastly, she raises her left leg as if to chamber a kick with her knee held slightly above her waist as she balances on the ball of her right foot.

Long moments pass as we silently watch each other, the tension slowly building between us as we wait for the other to make the first move.

Suddenly, she launches herself at me, throwing a left side kick toward my ribs. Stepping back and to my right, I evade her attack but she immediately twists to her right, throwing a spinning back kick toward my head. Unable to get out of the way in time, I raise my right wrist to touch my ear and use my forearm and elbow to block her blow. As she recovers from her kick, I step in so my right foot is forward and lash out with a backfist with the hand I just blocked with, aiming at the soft spot below her ear and behind her jaw. My hand meets nothing but air as she ducks underneath my attack and attempts to sweep my legs out from under me. Lifting my right leg across my body and then hopping back with my left leg, I evade her again, landing in a southpaw version of my fighting stance.

“Hmm… not bad,” she says, eying me like a cat studying a mouse. “Looks like you getting here wasn’t only luck and mind games.”

She renews her attack, chaining kick after kick at me while I’m completely on defense. A front snap kick parried, a low crescent kick flies under my raised leg, a jumping side kick sidestepped. The whole time, I’m managing to not get caught by her attacks, but I’m not fast enough to counter her. _She’s nearly as fast as Chun-Li_, I think, more grateful than I can express that the Interpol agent insisted on making me spend hours surviving her onslaught of rapid kicks. _Chun-Li is faster, but Juri’s kicks have a lot more weight to them. I might be able to take a handful of them, but I need to avoid her as much as possible._

Continuing to deflect and dodge Juri’s relentless kicks, I quickly formulate a plan. Gradually, I start trying to open the distance between us, taking myself completely out of range so I can’t counterattack. It’s a dangerous tactic since I’m completely defensive, unable to offer a threat of my own to keep Juri at bay. It’s also the sign of a less experienced fighter… or one that’s starting to panic. _Come on, take the bait, _I think trying to get Juri to drop her guard. My running away has the expected result and some of her kicks are managing to connect on my legs and ribs though I manage to mitigate the damage by moving with the impacts to diminish their force. Watching Juri’s body language, I see that her earlier excitement is starting to wane as I’m not fighting back at all, not even throwing attacks to simply make her step back and give me room to breathe.

Then I spot my opening. When she throws a right roundhouse kick at my head, I change my tactics. Stepping into her and to my right so my right leg is forward, I raise my arms in a high “x” block with my fists closed and in line with her incoming leg as I plant my weight into the floor as best as I can. Her upper shin crashes into my knuckles, the impact hitting her just below her knee making her stagger. As she lowers her kicking leg to try to recover her balance, I dart in and slam the point of my right elbow into her ribs, making her double over and stumble backward as her balance is further disrupted. Stepping in with my left foot forward to put all my weight behind my attack, I lash out with a heavy punch, the knuckles of my left hand smashing into her face and drawing blood from the corner of her mouth. Chasing after her a bit more, I fire a right legged sidekick aimed at her sternum to put her on the floor, but she manages to bat my kick to the side with the inside of her left forearm and I immediately retreat from her, putting three steps’ worth of distance between us.

Panting slightly to regain the breath my elbow had knocked from her lungs, Juri raises her left hand to her face and dips her fingers in the blood trickling down her chin. Looking at the blood wordlessly for a moment, she shifts her gaze to regard me with a wicked grin slowly curving her lips. “Oh, you clever, clever boy. You got me thinking you were panicked and tricked me into chasing you,” she says, eyes gleaming in renewed interest. “I think I’ll play with you some more. See just how much you can take,” she continues, licking the blood from her fingertips and lips before she lunges at me again.

Instead of running away from her, I meet her aggressively. She throws a front kick at my groin and I sidestep it to the inside, throwing a backfist at her inner thigh to deflect and weaken her leg. I throw a punch at her solar plexus and she parries it before slamming her left shin into my right thigh. She punches at my face and I grab her forearm, pulling her into a headbutt that opens a gash over her left eyebrow. She hooks one of my feet with hers, throwing me to the ground and I immediately roll through to my feet. Back and forth we go, each of us deflecting and landing hits on one another almost as if we’re engaged in a vicious, deadly dance. Point and counterpoint; call and response.

We break away from each other again. Juri’s almost beaming with a near-manic glee.

“Mmm, you’re much better than I expected,” she purrs seductively. “You really know how to get a girl going.”

She charges in and throws a left side kick aimed at my head. Knowing I can’t keep this fight up much longer, I change tactics to try to end this fight now. Ducking under her kick, I stay low and drive my shoulder into her support leg, wrapping my arms around the lithely muscled limb and hoisting her into the air. With a roar of exertion, I slam her back-first onto the hard stone-tiled floor. Before she can recover, I wrap both my arms under her knees and cinch my hands together in a Gable grip: palms pressed together with my fingers wrapping around the backs of my hands to cinch the grip tight. Standing up with her legs in my grasp, I lift her so her shoulders are the only part of her torso on the ground and then take a wide swinging step with my left leg over her body to flip her onto her front. Keeping my back straight and my feet spread wide for balance, I squat down to apply pressure on her lower back, trying to get her to submit. When the submission doesn’t come, I shuffle back, my feet nearly to her arm pits as I squat lower to increase the pressure.

_Just how much pain can she take?_ I wonder, knowing that if I apply more pressure, I could break her back and paralyze or even kill her. Debating on whether I should go that route, I feel a hand caressing my left arm.

“Oh, you naughty boy,” she coos, her voice devoid of pain though it is strained from the difficulty she must be having in breathing from this position. “You’re trying to break me. Too bad for you, it’s not going to work. I’m too flexible for that. Go ahead: pull my feet next to my head; I do that all the time.”

“Dammit,” I mutter, hearing truth in her words and realizing that this is pretty much a stalemate. I can’t force her to submit with this hold but letting go to try for a different submission will free her to fight back “Just my luck to be fighting a contortionist.”

Giggling seductively, she lightly scratches my arm and croons “Most men would be very happy to be with a girl as flexible as me.” Then her hand starts trailing down my arm and over my hip, and then lower toward my butt cheeks, making a slow but direct path to my groin.

Realizing her intent, I quickly let go of her legs and kick my feet forward, dropping ass-first on her back. The impact of the short drop doesn’t seem to break anything, but it does drive the air from her lungs giving me a chance. Scrambling like mad, I flip over and secure a mount on her back, my right head cupping her forehead from behind and pulling her head back as my left arm snakes under her chin. She bucks under me, somehow generating enough force to slightly lift me off her body, grabbing my arm in both hands at the same time. Recovering quickly, I hook my feet into the pockets of her hips to keep her under control as I clasp my hands together and try to finish the choke, my muscle straining from the effort of fighting against her grip on my arm. Gradually, I make progress, my arm closing on her neck inch by inch.

Suddenly, there’s a flash of fuchsia light from in front of her and my progress stops. Applying more pressure, I try to complete the choke but her grip on me is like iron and I might as well be pulling on a statue. Realizing what’s going on, I try to disengage, but she holds me tightly as she first gets her knees and then her feet under her, standing with my weight on her back apparently going unnoticed. Bending forward sharply, she flings me off her and halfway across the room. Rolling on impact, I scramble to my hands and knees and face her.

_I’m in serious trouble,_ I think, gulping involuntarily as I see her left eye is glowing from the light of her Feng Shui Engine. _She obliterated an entire amusement park with the power that thing gives her._

Standing right where she was when she threw me, Juri regards me with a predatory grin. “Oh, you’re good,” she purrs. “You would have beaten me with that hold if I weren’t so flexible.” Her smile fades slightly, dipping toward a snarl. “I’m not sure if I should feel insulted, though. A Boston Crab? Really? You tried to beat me with a pro-wrestling hold?”

Slowly getting to my feet, my muscles protesting from pain and exhaustion, I shrug a bit and answer, “It’s an effective hold and very few people expect it so by the time they realize what I’m doing, I’ve got it locked in.”

“Ooh, tricky, tricky,” she responds, expression brightening. “I wasn’t expecting to have to use this eye of mine against you, you know. You just didn’t seem worth it. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“I aim to impress,” I answer as casually as I can, barely able to stay on my feet.

Raking her gaze over me in a predatorily seductive manner she continues, “And you have… so far. Let’s see if you can really handle me.”

She rushes at me yet again, this time throwing a high front kick with her left leg coming nearly vertical at the end of her swing. I barely manage to lurch away when she stays in place and turns into a jumping roundhouse kick. My confusion as to why she threw that second kick when I was clearly out of her range is scattered away as I see the crescent of fuchsia light flying at me. Unable to dodge, I bring my arms up to protect myself, exposing the outsides of my forearms to avoid taking damage on the vulnerable blood vessels on the insides of my arms. Suddenly, I feel a crushing impact on my right side and two of my floating ribs give way, forcing me to double over in pain.

_Liver shot,_ I think, knowing that she’s won with this blow. Getting hit in the liver causes the body to simply shut down; not just from the intense pain, but also because an impact on the liver sends so many danger signals to the brain that the brain forces the body to lie down until everything is sorted out. I somehow manage to stay on my feet despite the pain. _I have one chance. If she gets careless, I could-_

My plan to possibly get a lucky hit on her jaw if she gets careless dies as I feel her left heel slam into the ribs on my left side as a result of a spinning back kick. I feel three more ribs break and I’m suddenly feeling extremely short of breath as it feels like I just got stabbed with a knife. Falling onto my back, I gasp in pain and cough up a wet, coppery tasting fluid. Touching my fingers to my lips, I see that it’s blood; pink and frothy. _She pierced my lung with that one. I’m dead._

“Aww,” she whines slightly with a pout in her voice. “And here I thought you might have another tricky plan to give me a fight.” Her bare feet make the softest padding sound as she saunters over to me, her movements provocative and frightening at the same time. Kneeling next to me, she caresses my cheek. “But, I suppose it can’t be helped. You really never had a chance against me.”

Grimacing in pain, I do my best to stare straight into her eyes, determined to at least die with dignity. This apparently pleases her as she leans down, brushing her lips against my ear as she whispers, “I promised I wouldn’t mutilate your corpse and I’ll keep it. But you put up such a fight that I think you deserve a reward.”

She leans back and shifts her hand to my throat, her fingers resting over my pulse. “Such a brave little hero…” she whispers, seductive as Death Itself as she leans down and kisses me as she’d offered before our fight. At the same time, her fingers tighten on my neck, cutting off the blood flow to my brain.

_This is it, _I think, seeing the world around me glow blurry. As everything starts fading to gray, I let go and kiss her back, as if in thanks to her. She makes a pleased noise and continues the kiss, tightening her grip on my neck until everything shifts from gray to black. The last thing I remember before the black takes me is the feel and taste of our bloodstained lips dancing with one another.

\--------------------------------------------

Consciousness returns gradually, my eyes refusing to see at first as my ears are jabbed with the recognizable beep of an EKG monitor. Blinking as rapidly as I can to clear my eyesight, my vision returns to show me a sterile white ceiling. Moving my gaze slowly, I realize I’m in a hospital room. Shifting a bit more, I search the room and find Chun-Li, Cammy, and Guile outside the door to my room, speaking with someone who appears to be a doctor.

“Do you have any information on how he got here?” the gorgeous Interpol agent asks, her tone professional, but worried.

“It’s the strangest thing,” the doctor replies. “A small Asian woman carried him into the Emergency Room and then disappeared after he was admitted. She looked almost as bad as he did but refused treatment.”

“What’s his condition?” Cammy asks in her elegant Received Pronunciation accent.

“He’s pretty banged up. Five broken ribs, his left lung was collapsed, a laceration on his liver, multiple lacerations and contusions all over his body,” the doctor answers, voice trailing off as he lists my injuries. It’s a small miracle he survived the beating he took.”

“I need a full description of the woman who brought him in,” Chun-Li interjects.

“We should go to my office, then,” the doctor says, leading the trio away.

Sighing, I turn my head to look outside the window and I spy a very familiar figure on the ledge outside my window. Locking her gaze with mine, Juri gives me a wicked, playful grin; her eye flashing with fuchsia light before she jumps to the roof of the building across the street and runs off into the night.

_Somehow… I think my life just got a lot more complicated…_


End file.
